


Remember Me

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, that's really about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: He knows her when he breathes in the smell of her—which is weird, given that she kind of smells like sweat and sulfur and fire, but under all that there’s something familiar that brings a name to the forefront of his mind.  “Wynonna,” he whispers into her hair.“Iron Bitch said you wouldn’t remember me,” she says, voice strained.





	Remember Me

When she appears in front of him, blinking into sight, he still doesn’t recognize her, not really.  He doesn’t know her name, doesn’t know why seeing her makes his chest feel tight and his throat ache, doesn’t know a _damn thing_ about her, but he knows _her_ in his marrow.  In the weeks past, he hasn’t been able to shake this feeling that something was wrong with him—not in the usual way, but something was missing, something was _gone_.  He should have been happy or satisfied or _something_ , but he’d been moody and almost lost.  Seeing her for the first time is like finally being able to breathe again.

“It’s you,” he says, relieved and confused.

“I cannot believe that _worked_ , holy _shit_ ,” she gasps, smiling so brilliantly, so satisfied and pleased and _beautiful_ , he can’t help but close the distance between them and crush her to his chest, big belly be damned.

He knows her when he breathes in the smell of her—which is weird, given that she kind of smells like sweat and sulfur and fire, but under all that there’s something familiar that brings a name to the forefront of his mind.  “Wynonna,” he whispers into her hair.

“Iron Bitch said you wouldn’t remember me,” she says, voice strained. 

“I remember you,” he replies, because he does, now, and can’t imagine ever having forgotten.  He pulls back enough to peer into her face.  “Of course I remember you.”  Her face falls just a little as she lets out a shaking breath before she lifts her eyes to his.

Lurching up into his space, she kisses him so hard the force of it rocks him backward and for a really embarrassing moment he thinks he might fall, but then her hands grip the front of his sweater and it steadies him.  When she pulls away, he chases her, if only to press his lips to her chin and nose and cheeks and forehead and hear her gentle, hitching breaths.  She clings to him and whispers, “Can we do that, like, always?”

“I mean, the Revs probably wouldn’t appreciate it,” he laughs, his own voice thick with emotion.

“I have literally never cared less,” she says seriously.

Smiling so hard it hurts, he finds it impossible, abso-fucking-lutely _impossible_ to stop touching her.  He can’t not be touching her, not when it feels so _right_ to have her there—keeps stroking through her dirty hair, keeps pressing chaste kisses to her face, keeps trying to pull her closer.  Her eyes are wide and distant as her hands caress his chest, his stomach, his arms, his back.  They need to find Waves, they need to formulate a plan, things are still happening—but time seems to stop, as if the universe were allowing this, just this one moment of elated, grateful, _glorious_ peace.  She buries her face into his neck suddenly and takes several gulping, shuddering breaths, arms wrapping around him so tight it should hurt, but all he can do is whisper nonsense into her hair and squeeze her just as hard.

“I just—I goddamn missed you so much,” she chokes.

He opens his mouth to reply when the door bangs open and he hears Waverly saying, “Dolls, something’s happened to Wy—oh.”

Wynonna whirls out of his grasp just enough to turn around, staying just close enough to touch for half a beat before she’s rushing her sister, and he hears _something_ about looking like an elf and a tearful comment that she needs a _shower_ , Jesus.

\--

“Hey,” Dolls whispers, because it’s early enough still that Waverly and Nicole are probably still sleeping, and because there’s a gentle, quiet intimacy between them nearly nose-to-nose in bed in the dim pre-dawn light that he’s scared he’d shatter if he speaks too loudly.  She hums softly, up-turned at the end like a question, and even _that_ makes him smile.  “Go on a date with me.”

With a huffed laugh, her hand dances over his arm, up to his shoulder, resting on his neck.  “You’re, like, in my bed—didn’t we bypass the dating phase?” she asks quietly.

He frowns until she smooths it with a slow swipe of her fingers.  “I don’t wanna bypass the dating phase,” he says.  It feels too honest and too open but her slow, private smile eases the sudden worry in his gut.

“Okay,” she sighs, inching forward to tuck her head under his chin.  “So where do we go on this date?”

“Coffee?” he suggests before she pinches his side.  “Tea, for you, and one of those giant chocolate croissants you like.”  She snorts against his throat.  As her hand strokes up and down his side, he continues sleepily, “Little cake pops, they’ve got those bento boxes…”

“You’re a nerd,” she chides gently, lips brushing his skin.  “We can sleep a little while longer.”

It’s such a tempting offer, and it’s so warm, and he’s so abnormally relaxed—he lets his eyes slide shut.  He must sleep again, because the next moment he hears footsteps on the stairs and the bedroom is bright with early-morning sun.  Because he _can_ , he kisses Wynonna awake.  His lips brush her closed eyelids, her forehead, her nose, and he whispers, “Time to get up, baby.”

Eyes still shut, she smiles sweetly and murmurs, “ _So_ much better than a vibrating alarm pillow.”  Snorting, he cards through her hair and rubs small circles into her scalp.  She lets out a low noise, almost like a mewl—not that he’d ever call it a mewl, he _really_ likes having everything attached the way it is—and says, “I could, like, do this for hours—except I really can’t because I have to pee.”

“S’fine, I was just waiting for you to get up so I could get coffee,” he grins.

Yawning, she rolls out of his grasp and heaves her way out of the bed.  With a quiet groan, he follows, catches her at the door to kiss her neck until she laughingly elbows him off and reminds him of her _very full bladder, Xavier_.  In the kitchen, he finds Waverly and Nicole, close and sleep-mussed in front of the coffee pot.

“Morning,” he says gruffly, slipping past them as they move out of the way.

“So weird to see you in your pajamas,” Nicole replies with a quick smile.

“I’m pleasantly surprised as always to see you wearing clothes at all,” he responds in the same tone.  It’s… surprisingly comfortable, familiar even, to stand around joking with them and working through his first cup of coffee.  He puts on the kettle before he starts his second cup, sounds of the shower distant and muffled.  Waverly looks at him like she knows a secret.

As soon as he starts her tea steeping, he hears Wynonna’s tacky footsteps on the hardwood.  Morosely, she tugs at the tea bag and mumbles, “I can’t wait to drink coffee again.”

He can see, out of the corner of his eye, her sister pointedly looking away from them when she leans into him, towel-wrapped head against his shoulder.  “Hungry?” he asks quietly enough for just her to hear.

“ _Always_ ,” she says breathlessly.  When he starts to pull away, she shakes her head and mumbles, “I can make it.  Cereal.  Breakfast of champs.”  While she’s pouring Frosted Flakes into a bowl, she asks, “So, are we doing the carpooling thing or am I wasting gas?”

“I actually have some errands to run, so you’re on your own until this afternoon,” he replies, keeping himself as neutral as possible.

Her eyes narrow and she says, “Well, that sounds ominous.”

“They’re good errands,” he assures her.

\--

It’s such a small thing, it weighs practically nothing, but he’s hyperaware of the little box in his coat pocket.  Every shift, every step, every turn reminds him it’s there, and it starts to actually make him a little anxious.  It doesn’t get much better when he gets to the station and hangs up his jacket—he finds his eyes drawn to it, finds he can’t quite concentrate on what’s being said.  He can feel Jeremy looking at him strangely but, oddly enough, he doesn’t actually mention it.  Soon, actually driven to distraction, once everyone’s kinda gone their separate ways for lunch, he takes Wynonna’s hand and whispers close, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I thought dates involved more planning,” she teases, letting him drag her out the door. 

In the SUV, he finds himself drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in and out of time with the music.  Her eyes are sharp on him, he can feel them, but when he looks over, her face is serene and thoughtful.  When he pulls up to the café, she leans across the console to kiss him, slow and sweet and easy.  She lets him drape an arm around her shoulders as they walk inside.  Inside, it’s warm and cozy and very, very hipster— _God, they’re moving West_ , she’d laughed in mock horror the first time they’d been here—and she orders tea and looks on with mild envy when he orders coffee, rolls her eyes when he actually _does_ order a chocolate croissant.  The place is damn near empty, a little past lunchtime for normal people, and they find a secluded corner with plush chairs and a chess board set up.

“I’m not playing chess with you,” she laughs.

“I think I’ll survive,” he replies mildly.  He watches her tilt her chin down and look at the floor, smile quietly pleased.  When her eyes come back up, her lips twist just a little and somehow that’s self-deprecating.  “Hey,” he says, reaching for her hand.  Her palm slides against his, and he sees her bite her lower lip.  “You know what’s crazy?”

“Aside from me?” she asks.

“The thing is—when you were gone, when none of us remembered you, I missed you,” he hears himself explaining, eyes holding hers.  He sees something flicker there, sees her smile sober a touch.  “It’s like part of me had disappeared and I couldn’t figure out what the hell it was, or why I was so unhappy, or who I was looking for.” 

After a moment, she clears her throat and her voice is rough when she says, “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your feelings in the, like, damn near two years I’ve know you combined.”  Her fingers squeeze around his hand, though, and her lips are curled just so.

“I’m working on that,” he shrugs, lighter than he feels.  Then he frowns and reaches into his pocket with his free hand, muttering, “I sort of got you something, by the way.”

“I definitely did not know we were supposed to bring gifts to our first official date,” she jokes, eyes wide and serious.  “Is that a rule?  Because if so, that’s, like, years that I haven’t been following etiquette.  _So_ embarrassing.”

The box gets caught at an odd angle when he tries to yank it out and he fumbles with it a little, because _of course it does_ , but he does eventually get it out.  He doesn’t miss the way her face drains of color when he offers it and he feels a sudden, sick twist in his gut and can’t help the words that tumble out:  “It’s a promise, not a proposal.”

Her brow furrows, and his hand is cold when she lets it go to take the box from him.  She opens the box and for a long moment just stares inside.  Nestled against satin-soft cushion is a silver bracelet, not quite a full circle, with a single turquoise stone on one end, the initials X.D. and W.E. engraved on the other.  On the inside are the words, “I’m yours, forever.”  She balances the box on her knee as she turns the bracelet over in her hands, and he hears her breath catch when he reads the inscription and suddenly there are tears streaming down her face and she chokes on a sob and he’s right on the verge of apologizing when she laughs and shakes her head and whispers hoarsely, “Goddamn _hormones,_ I swear.”

In her gaze, he sees a plea to accept that, and he doesn’t comment on it as she slips the bracelet onto her wrist.  “Turquoise is supposed to be for protection,” he says dumbly, as if he didn’t agonize over what stone to set there.

She hiccups a little and leans forward to press a wet kiss to his lips, whispering, “A goddamn cheesy _nerd_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I got this ask: Okay but imagine this: after this whole AU shit is done with, Dolls asks wynonna to go for coffee again, they go on a little date. Dolls pulls out a little black box, wynonna shits herself thinking it's a ring but when he opens it, it's a bracelet with their initials on it saying "I'm yours, forever." The hormones start getting to her and dolls starts shitting it then thinking "well damn I didn't want her to cry." He puts it on her wrist and they carry on with their date. I S2G I'M NOT CRYING.
> 
> A fic happened.
> 
> I cry.
> 
> It's fine I'm fine.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always, and feel free to come by my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I talk about this show and not much else.


End file.
